


Touch of Evil

by PhantomGirl1731



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2020-11-28 15:50:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20969096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantomGirl1731/pseuds/PhantomGirl1731
Summary: Max O'Reilly - bonded air courier, part time demon hunter, and telepath…and the target of something rather dark and nasty. Or for the Winchesters, just another day at the office. Enter Dean and Sam as they are called to help Max and her friends as they take on a demonic entity known as The Thrall.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally written sometime in 2006 - it was the first fanfiction story I ever posted online on one of the fan message boards. It will be edited and revamped slightly for quality purposes, but I'd like to re-post it here and maybe follow through to completion of the overall story. It's set during season 1, the timeline a little skewed but definitely between the episodes "Faith" and "Route 666".   
It's also a crossover of sorts - I was reading the book "Touch of Evil" by CT Adams and Cathy Clamp, which is considered a paranormal romance, and as I read it I wondered what would happen if it was the Winchesters involved...hence Max's creation. She's a modified version of the main character "Kate Reilly" and a lot of this first story is set to the events of the book itself.

Inside of a cheap motel room in the middle of nowhere, Dean Winchester slept soundly, and peacefully. Unless you happened to be able to see inside his mind, where he was having a nightmare…

_“What do you have those amped up to?” Sam asked._

_“100,000 volts,” Dean answered, grabbing the weapons from the trunk of his Impala. _

_“Damn…”_

_“Yeah, well, I want this raw-head extra freakin’ crispy,” Dean shrugged. _

_He and Sam ran down into the basement of the abandoned house. Two kids were in the cupboard, and he told Sam to get them to safety as he went after the demon. He scrambled after it, trying to get good aim with the taser, not realizing he’d ended up in the water until he’d fired, and electrocuted both the demon…and himself._

_He felt the pain again and cried out. Darkness filled his mind, then the memory of the ambulance ride, and the sounds of heart monitors, beeping steadily…_

With a gasp he opened his eyes, blinking as he sat up. He took in the dim surroundings – his brother fast asleep in the bed to his left, television across the room dark and quiet but showing off his pale reflection, green eyes wide as it stared back at him.

No hospital, no beeping monitors, no tubes or wires…it took him a few moments before he realized that the beeping sound was coming from his cell phone. With a groan he reached over and flipped it open, “Hello?”

_“Um…am I speaking to one of the Winchester boys?” _A man’s voice timidly asked.

“Yeah,” Dean answered slowly, suspicious of the caller. “Who is this?”

_“My name is Jonathan Thompson; I am a priest at a church in Denver called Our Lady of Perpetual Hope—”_

“I’m familiar with the place,” Dean cut him off, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He’d driven past it when they’d been staying in Denver years before.

_“Yes, well,”_ Jonathan replied shortly, clearing his throat as he continued, _“A situation has come up, and I was instructed—”_

“You called our father, and his voicemail told you to call me,” Dean recited. He gave a sigh, “What is the situation?”

_“Um…I will explain it upon your arrival,” _the man said quickly, and cut the call.

Dean sighed and closed the phone. “Sam, get your ass up!”

Sam gave a shout as he jerked awake, instantly sitting up as he quickly searched the room, eyes locking onto his brother as he gasped out, “Dean, we have to get to—”

“Denver?” Dean asked.

Sam nodded, and his eyes held confusion.

“A priest beat your vision by about five seconds. What did you see?”

“There was this girl…”

“She hot?”

Sam rolled his eyes, “That’s not the point…and I don’t know, I didn’t get a good look. I saw fangs…blood…”

“Vampires?” Dean then asked.

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, and grimaced as he rubbed at his temples, “A whole lot of them…like a hive…all talking at once…”

“And you didn’t see the girl?”

“Well…I saw she had this reddish-blonde hair…that was the only detail I could make out, everything else was in shadow…”

“Maybe part of it was a dream, and you saw Mary Jane Watson,” Dean said.

There was a beat of silence, followed by Sam’s question, “Wait…what?”

“I have no idea…” Dean shook his head.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Chapter 2. Significantly longer, and going into more details of the story. Constructive criticism is always appreciated.

* * *

“There was another woman,” Sam finally said, his tone giving away how exhausted he was.

Dean glanced at him from behind the wheel of the Impala, “Now there’s _two_?”

“Yeah…” Sam nodded, trying to remember more of his vision. “She bit the redhead.”

“On the arm?”

“Right,” Sam said, “And she controlled the voices.”

“Of the vampires.”

“She controlled the vampires, yes…” Sam shook his head, “This is getting weirder by the second.”

“And the things we’ve faced are so normal?” Dean asked, glancing at him again before turning his eyes back to the road.

They passed a sign that read _Welcome to Denver._ Sam began to hear a quiet buzzing noise, and looked around, “What’s that sound?”

“What sound?” Dean asked.

“The buzzing,” Sam said.

“What buzzing?”

“You don’t hear it?”

“I hear the engine,” Dean said, “I hear you yammering on about noises, but I don’t hear any buzzing noise of any kind.” He turned on his radio, and blared Metallica. “And now I hear music, but it’s not buzzin’.”

The buzzing began to fade into silence. But listening to Metallica wasn’t on his list of things to listen to either. _I’d rather hear the buzzing,_ Sam thought.

Dean eventually pulled the car to a stop near a small bar called Bernardo’s. “We’re low on cash,” He explained, getting out of the car.

“And he probably wants a drink, and a girl,” Sam muttered, and rolled his eyes, getting out as well.

The two Winchesters walked into the place, hearing the clack of breaking billiard balls, the latest array of rap music from the radio speakers, and the usual murmur of voices from bar patrons. The walls were painted white, the bar on the far right of the room, pool tables in the middle and sets of booths to their left. 

“I’ll hit the pool tables,” Dean said, “You…do whatever it is you do…maybe watch the door, see if vision-girl shows.”

“Right,” Sam nodded, rolling his eyes. “Just don’t start any fights.” 

“Hey!” Dean snapped, then lowered his voice, “That only happened once…”

“No, it happened five times, if I recall,” Sam smirked, “But good luck anyway.”

Dean shot a glare his way, before starting a game with one of the players at the tables.

Sam chuckled, and then sat at the bar, watching as Dean played pool. He sipped the beer he’d ordered and glanced at the door. There was something to Dean’s theory, but he didn’t see the girl, nor was he sure if she’d even show. _It’s not like I had a vision where she was here,_ he thought.

That was when she walked in, dressed in a black leather biker jacket, blue jeans, and boots. He knew because the strawberry-blonde hair that draped her shoulders stood out in his memory and she matched the profile of the girl.

A younger man flanked her and judging by the matching green eyes and the fact he also had red hair, Sam guessed it was her brother. Whomever they’d been waiting for probably hadn’t showed, so they sat down.

He also saw that Dean noticed the redhead, and the look in his eye showed interest. But he kept to his original plan, hustle some money off the players, and get back to the bar. Red watched him play, and when his current opponent left, she challenged him.

Sam smiled at the massacre he knew was about to take place. Red had that look, power packed into a small package. _Or not so small…_Red was about 5 foot 9 with a round face, and while she was on the thinner side of the scale, she wasn’t scrawny – Sam could see the toned muscles on her. _And she’s got the look that means Dean’s goin’ down in a huge ball of flames…_

Sure enough, even when Dean finally played his best game, Red kicked his ass. She sank her final shot just as the doors opened once more and two men walked in. She glanced at them, then took Dean’s wad of cash, and gave him a sarcastic pat on the shoulder as she joined the men. Dean’s eyes went from his hustled wad of cash, to Sam, with a look that asked, _‘What just happened here?’_ Then he glared when he saw Sam laughing at him from the bar. Dean flashed him the finger before joining another game. Seeing that only made Sam laugh harder.

Sam calmed down and went back to his drink. He alternated watching Dean play against a few drunken bikers, _Probably not a good idea…_and the redhead from his vision. Dean lost a game; a picture was shown to Red. Dean eventually won a few bucks, and the older man that sat across from Red pulled out his wallet, thumbing through a large wad of cash. Sam’s eyes widened and he did a double take.

“Matt!” the man who’d entered with him gasped in shock.

“What?” The answer was defiant and aggressive.

“Apparently _that_ was unexpected,” Sam muttered, finishing off his beer.

Red was still in a conversation, and the younger man across from her wrote something on a card and handed it to her. Red grasped his hand, and the man flinched, and tried to pull away.

“That’s weird,” Sam frowned, as he saw the scene play out. The man was changing, becoming weaker somehow…he’d slumped over onto the table when Sam caught sight of his brother.

Dean had managed to hustle yet another large wad of cash. Just as he was heading back with the money, the joker he’d swindled grabbed his shoulder. “I don’t think you’re done here…”

Dean stiffened, and the redhead got to her feet. Dean faced the drunk, “What?”

“I think you hustled us!” the drunken biker snapped. He had three buddies with him, all as drunk as he was.

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but the biker clocked him in the face. When Dean responded with a kick to the biker’s gut that made the guy drop like a rock, his buddies jumped him. Sam jumped into the fray, followed by Red. She yanked the drunken biker off Dean first, sent a knee to his face, and shoved him aside.

“There’s an all-night coffee shop across the street,” Red snapped. “Go take your buddies and cool off.”

“Sorry O’Reilly!” The leader said, through his grip on his bleeding nose. The bikers scrambled away, and out the door.

“You’d find their pictures under the dictionary term, _‘Jackass’_,” Red shook her head. “Are you guys all right?”

The brothers nodded. Sam had taken a punch but had done more damage than he received. Dean had taken quite a few hits, but his face didn’t hold much bruising. He was lying on the floor, catching his breath.

“First night in town,” Red smiled, holding out her hand, “And you’re already getting into bar fights.”

“Wasn’t the intention,” Dean said, taking the offered hand.

“Well, that’s what you get for hustling in this place.”

“I wasn’t—” Dean began but cut off at the girl’s look. “Well…you did it to me!”

“Probably can’t say you didn’t have it coming.”

Dean glared, and Sam smirked at him, “Thanks for your help…and for out-hustling him.”

“Eh, figured while I was here,” She shrugged, before reaching out to shake his hand. “Name’s Max.”

“I’m Sam,” He shook then motioned at his brother, “That’s Dean.”

Max was about to say something, but the door opened again.

_“What the _hell_ do you think you’re doing with _my_ husband?”_

Max’s eyes slid shut in a cringe as her shoulders slumped.

“Friend of yours?” Dean smirked.

“Used to be,” Max sighed. She turned to face the tiny brunette woman that had entered, “Dylan asked to see me, Clarissa.”

“Dylan wouldn’t _ask_ to see you,” Clarissa snarled up at her – even in three-inch high heeled shoes Max still had a few inches on her in height. “What would he want with you?”

“What he used to want before he started bangin’ you,” Max growled. The Winchesters heard it; apparently though, Clarissa didn’t, or was just ignorant.

“What did you say?”

“Nothin’,” Max rolled her eyes. She sighed, “Claire, Dylan left me five messages in two days…then called me just this morning, and that doesn’t strike you as _odd_?”

Clarissa still scowled, “Queen Monica would _never_ send Dylan to talk to you.”

“I gathered that from the way he turned into a drooling zombie,” Max pointed to where the man in question had been moved so he was sitting on the floor, back against the booth. His eyes were closed, and a line of drool was running from the corner of his mouth down to his shirt, leaving a dark patch near his collar.

Clarissa gave a ‘huff’ of annoyance, and walked over to Dylan, kneeling beside him, then smacking him across the face.

Both Winchesters started toward her, but Max held out her arms to keep them at bay. “I don’t like it either,” She murmured. “I just wish she didn’t.”

“Dylan, wake up and tell me what the hell is going on!” Clarissa snapped, going back for another blow.

Finally, Max rushed forward and gripped her arm, “Dylan asked me to find Dusty.”

“Who?”

“Your niece, Darlene,” Max said, “She’s goin’ by Dusty now. He asked me to find her.” She sighed, “And, I _do_ think that this has something to do with Dylan’s _masters_…that’s why he didn’t tell them he was contacting me…and now he’s facing Monica’s wrath.”

Clarissa yanked her arm out of Max’s grip and glared. Whatever Max had been implying, Clarissa finally understood. And didn’t take it lightly.

_“You lying bitch!”_ Clarissa leapt at Max, who went wide-eyed, as she was pinned against a table, with Clarissa’s hands at her throat.

Sam ran forward quickly, and tried to pull Clarissa away, but received a kick to his stomach that sent him scrambling backwards.

Clarissa pressed on Max’s windpipe, cutting off her air supply. The girl tensed her neck and shoulder muscles, so she’d have to work at choking her.

“Look ma,” Max choked, a cocky smile on her face, “No hands…”

A booted foot went between them, as the table tipped when Max let go. When it fell, she rolled to the side, taking the strangling mass with her. The foot kicked, and Clarissa went flying into the pool table across the room, knocking the racked-up balls around, some clunking her in the head.

Max shot to her feet, with a cue stick in hand, ready to fight, yet hacking from the chokehold.

“Back off, O’Reilly,” The bouncer snapped, snatching the stick.

Max opened her mouth, then started laughing through her coughing. Sam looked from her to the bouncer, then to Dean, who caught on, and smiled.

“What’s so funny?” Sam wheezed, still out of breath from Clarissa’s kick.

“Well, my first instinct,” Max said, still giggling slightly, “Was to say, _‘she started it’_.”

“Never a truer word,” Dean pointed out.

“Then I guess my answer is, _‘and I’m finishing it,’_” the bouncer smiled, then rounded on Clarissa. As she got up, the bouncer told her, “If the slate is cracked, I’m sendin’ you a bill.”

The woman glared at him, “You can send _Max_ the bill, thank you very much, _I’m_ the injured party here.”

“Not from where I was standing,” the bouncer growled, “And I’ve got two witnesses who will testify to that. Now take your drooling zombie and get out!”

Clarissa smirked, and dragged Dylan out of the bar.

Max sighed, which caused a slight coughing fit. The bartender handed her a glass of water, which she drank, slowly.

“Aren’t you the popular one,” Dean said, smirking slightly. He helped Sam over to the bar and sat him on a stool.

“That’s me,” Max shrugged, then turned to Sam, “Are you okay?” She noted his arm was draped around his stomach, and he still wasn’t breathing normally. “I didn’t know she was that strong…apparently, she decided to hit the gym.”

“I’m okay,” Sam assured her.

Max then frowned at them, “Sam and Dean…are you the Winchester boys?”

They exchanged looks, “What makes you say that?”

“A friend of mine, and a meddlesome brother, mentioned the two of you,” Max said, her gaze darkening. “Did a priest named Jonathan call you?”

Their lack of an answer was all she needed. Max’s lips curled until her mouth was a thin line. “You may as well meet the man who called you.” She got to her feet, “Follow me. Charlie, we’re outta here!”

“Right behind ya,” The kid called out, getting to his feet. He was taller than Max, topping at least six feet.

She walked past the bouncer, “Sorry, Ralph…normally I’d help—”

“I understand,” Ralph nodded. “You’re coming back to clean this mess up though.”

“Right,” Max said, with one of those grins that said, _‘I guess I backed into that one.’_

As they stepped into the night air, Max added, “Boys, this here’s my brother Charlie. Charlie, these are the Winchesters.”

Charlie’s eyebrows rose as he looked up at Sam, then he glanced at Max, “So Jonathan actually—”

“Like the two of you weren’t planning it all along,” Max cut him off.

“Yeah but…damn,” Charlie frowned.

“What?”

“I owe Noah twenty bucks,” Charlie grumbled, and his shoulders slumped as he started heading toward a four-story brick building across the street.

Max cocked an eyebrow at the Winchesters before turning back toward her brother, “For or against?”

“Against!” Charlie wailed as he threw his arms in the air, not even turning back to face them.

The side of Max’s mouth curled up in a smile as her shoulders shook as she tried not to laugh. She cleared her throat and turned toward the brothers, “So um…do you have a car?”

“Hell yes,” Dean said, heading for the parking lot.

When Max caught sight of the Impala, she gave an appreciative whistle, “Nice car…”

“Don’t touch it though,” Sam said, “He’ll break your fingers.”

“I’d like to see him try,” Max smirked, and headed in the same direction of her brother, jogging toward the parking garage.

“What’d you tell her that for?” Dean said, glaring at him.

“Because it’s true,” Sam shrugged. “You freaked when that shape shifter was ridin’ in it.”

They were both in the Impala, still arguing, when the green Ford pickup came out of the parking garage. Max’s head poked out the driver’s side window, “You’ll hafta follow me boys, ‘cause I ain’t givin’ directions. You get lost, that’s your problem, not mine.”

The truck took off, with the Impala right behind it.

“She doesn’t like us too much, does she?” Sam asked rhetorically.

“And how many people do at first?” Dean shot back.

A good fifteen minutes, and three red lights later, Max’s truck pulled into the parking lot of a small church. She got out, slamming the door behind her. She waited for their car to pull to a stop, and for them to get out. Her irritation had turned to disgust when she looked at them and had nothing to say. She turned on her heel and headed for the church.

Max threw open both doors, causing them both to hit the walls with a loud CRACK!

Sam glanced at Dean, and the silent agreement passed, _“Don’t make her mad.”_

“Jonathan!” Max shouted, her voice echoing off the stone.

The man came from the back room, looking tired beyond belief. When he saw the three of them standing in the doorway, he paled, and was wide-awake now. “Um…Max…how are you—”

“They…_implied _that you called them, Johnny,” Max said in an eerily calm voice. “You’ve mentioned the Winchesters before. Explained who they were and what they did.”

“I know…” Jonathan tugged at his collar.

“So why are they here?” Max gave him a scary-sweet smile. “I take care of the ghost things around here, they’re not needed.”

“I was worried,” Jonathan burst out. “I was afraid with Monica pushing for her replacement that you’d be—”

Max grimaced, “I knew that would come back to bite me in the ass…” She shook her head, “Johnny, I’m more than capable of taking care of myself. Monica has been at bay for the past four years; I think she can wait.”

“Monica’s _dying_, Max,” Jonathan said. “She _can’t _wait.”

“Uh, question,” Dean cut in, “What the hell is going on here?”

Jonathan and Max both gave exasperated sighs. Jonathan motioned to the pews, “Sit down, and we will explain the situation as best as we can.”

“Make yourselves comfortable,” Max said, sitting on the back of one of them, balancing her feet on the seat-part, “This will take a while.”

“Okay…well, we’d first better explain the Thrall,” Jonathan said. “It’s basically made up of vampires. It’s divided up into Host, Herd, Prey, and Not Prey. Prey are regular humans, like you and me. Any human that hasn’t been bitten, or proven themselves in some way, is considered _‘prey’_.”

“Charming thought,” Dean frowned.

“The Hosts and Herd are what you watch out for. Herd are humans that carry a Thrall bite but can also be controlled by them. Well…even Prey can be controlled by the Thrall, but Herd are…”

“Herd are bitten, and are stuck with the Thrall forever,” Max cut him off. “They’re almost the same as Hosts, but Hosts carry the vampire parasite, and will die off faster, because the human body can’t handle it. They’re stronger and faster than the Herd. Except the Herd do just fine on their own,” She grimaced, her hand going to the back of her head.

“That attack was all the more reason to call the Winchesters,” Jonathan pointed out.

Max held up three fingers, “Read between the lines.”

“I’m just saying,” Jonathan shrugged.

“They think like a Hive mind,” Max went on. “Think Hive of bees. With the queen to be the leader. Which brings us to Monica. She’s the queen of the hive. But she’s dying and needs her replacement.”

“Which is why Dylan asked you to find Dusty?” Jonathan’s statement was more of a question.

“Her stepfather would gladly hand her over to the Thrall if need be,” Max answered. “She’s got two choices already lined up, and if one stays hidden, we’ll do okay.”

“So Dusty is going to be the next queen, unless you can stop it?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, unless Monica finds yet another replacement,” Max shrugged. “Anyway, where were we?” She frowned, “Ah yes. Finishing off with the queen. Monica needs her replacement before she dies. And only she can make another queen. Such as the ways of the vampires.”

“So, where do you fall into these categories?” Dean asked.

“Not Prey,” Max answered. “Not that that status matters now, but it’s true. I shouldn’t be threatened.”

“But you are,” Sam pointed out, “Jonathan wouldn’t have called us otherwise.”

Max shrugged again, “Guess I’m admitting defeat then?”

“Not defeat,” Jonathan said. “You’re getting extra allies.”

“Whatever,” Max shook her head. She checked the time, “We done here? I sent Charlie home to watch over the boys, I shudder to think what happened while I was gone.”

“Fine,” Jonathan nodded.

Max didn’t say anything else but headed for the door.

“Oh…where are they gonna stay?” Jonathan frowned, “I really don’t have the room here—”

“They can stay with me,” Max shrugged. “Motels are packed this time of year, and I’ve got plenty of room…one can have the bed, the other can have the sofa…and I’ll curl up in the closet, where the monsters can’t get me.”

“Max,” Jonathan groaned, grabbing his forehead.

Dean smiled, “I think I’m beginning to like this girl.”

“Laughs in the face of death like you,” Sam shook his head, then said quietly so only Dean could hear, “Not gonna happen.”

* * *

“So…that’s what you saw in your vision?” Dean asked, “The girl, the Thrall?”

“Probably,” Sam said, frowning. “I saw someone get bitten…I just saw the arm…and fangs…”

“Anything else?” Dean asked, pulling into the parking garage behind Max’s truck.

“Yeah…I think I did see Max,” Sam frowned. “It had to be years ago…she looked a lot younger, and her hair was longer.”

“What happened?”

“She was bitten,” Sam said. “But since she’s Not Prey, something different happened. I just don’t know what.”

“I dunno,” Dean frowned, “But this whole vampire-parasite thing is really creepin’ me out.”

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, “Out of all the things we’ve seen…definitely one of the worse ones.”

“Hey Hardy boys!” Max said, “Come on, I ain’t waitin’ all night!”

They locked the Impala and grabbed their bags. Max waited at the stairs; arms folded. “We’re takin’ the stairs.”

“What’d we do?” Dean teased.

“Nothin’,” Max answered. “Just a rule. Unless you’re movin’ in, you don’t get to use the elevator.”

“Darn,” Dean smirked.

Max rolled her eyes and continued up the stairs.

Sam grimaced, and rubbed at his ears, before asking, “What’s that buzzing noise?”

“That again?” Dean asked and turning to look at him.

“You don’t hear it?”

“No, I don’t,” Dean shook his head, “I don’t hear a thing.”

Max paused, “Are you psychic?”

“What?” Sam asked, still cringing slightly.

“Do you have psychic abilities?” Max asked.

“I get visions from time to time,” Sam shrugged.

Max nodded thoughtfully, “It’s the Thrall. They all talk at once. It’s like a constant buzzing. You eventually learn to shut them out.” She shook her head, “At least you don’t have Monica talkin’ to you all the time, tellin’ you how she’s gonna…” She then frowned, “Never mind. Loud music normally drowns her out…Green Day, AC/DC, lots of stuff.”

“You actually listen to Green Day?” Dean smirked.

“I listen to everything,” Max said. “Except rap. Certain songs, yes. But most of it…” She stuck her tongue out, and grimaced. “Blech.”

A door opened on the second floor, “Max, your brothers are at it again.”

“Thanks Justin,” Max sighed, glancing up the stairs.

“Who’re they?” Justin asked, blinking at them through his glasses. “They don’t smell right.”

The brothers exchanged glances. Even Max raised her eyebrows at that, “Justin that wasn’t nice.”

“I mean,” Justin shook his head. “They give off a weird vibe, that’s all.”

“They’re the Winchester brothers,” Max said. “Jonathan mentioned them.”

“Oh,” Justin said, nodding. “Oh.” His voice changed, “Um…well. You know where to find me if you need me.” And the door closed with a snap.

“Don’t ask,” Max said, as both heads turned toward her. “I’ll explain it later, but right now…” They could hear the thumping from one floor above, and Max sighed.

“How many do you have up there?” Sam asked, as the bumps and voices grew louder.

“Three,” Max sighed. “Charlie came with me to the bar, plus my younger ones, Noah and Luke.”

“And they live here with you?” Dean asked.

“Well…I converted the extra space on my floor so they’d kinda have their own apartment,” Max explained. “I didn’t think they’d want their older sister hovering.” She reached a door, where a crudely made sign taped to it read, _‘Max’s apartment. Vampires and other supernatural creatures beware.’_

“Nice sign,” Dean said, cocking his eyebrows at it.

“Luke made it,” Max smiled and shook her head. “He was staying in the day care at my high school. The teacher took me out of one of my classes and asked what it was about.” She sighed, “I had to tell her he meant that I made all the vampires and things he was afraid of go away. I just implied that he was talking about his bad dreams.”

She unlocked the door, and instantly the noise level increased.

“I said it was my turn!” A voice shouted.

“It was your turn last night!” A second voice snapped.

“Hey, let me get a shot!” A third, which sounded younger than the rest, complained.

“For the love of…” Max grimaced, and walked in, heading for her living room.

“Wow…” Sam said, realizing the size of the place. He was sure it took up half of the third and fourth floors alone. A curved staircase ran along the wall leading up to the second-floor loft, beneath it sat a full kitchen with a bar-style counter.

The living room was to the left of the door and sunken slightly, and Max was headed down the few steps, arms folded, glaring at the three boys, wrestling over the TV remote.

“Boys!” Max snapped, and group froze. “We have company.”

The three looked at Sam, then looked at Dean, and since they recognized Charlie, they assumed it was the middle brother who asked, “Who are they?”

“You remember when Johnny talked about the Winchesters?” Max asked.

“The rifles?” 

“Nope,” Max sighed. “The brothers, you know, he mentioned John Winchester, and his sons Dean and Sam?”

“Oh, _those_ Winchesters.”

“You still don’t have any idea who I’m talking about, do you?” Max asked.

“I remember ‘em!” The youngest said, “Jonathan mentioned them after he explained about the ghosts!”

“Right,” Max nodded. “Now, guys, can you go to your place _and_ behave?”

“Sure,” The middle said.

“Whatever,” The youngest shrugged.

Charlie didn’t meet Max’s gaze, but he didn’t follow the others. She sighed, “Charlie…?”

“I’m going,” Charlie said, “I’m going.” The three closed the door behind them.

Max smiled, “At least they didn’t make…” She frowned as she saw her kitchen, filled with dirty dishes, “A mess…” She walked into the area and loaded the dishes into the dishwasher. The thing was filled before she closed the door after the last dish. “I’ll wash ‘em tomorrow…” 

“Why not just push a button and do it now?” Dean asked.

“Eh,” Max shrugged, “Thing doesn’t work anyway. Can’t bring myself to call the guy to fix it…oh well.”

“So…how’s this gonna work?” Dean asked.

“Normally you put the dishes in the sink, they soak—”

“Sleepin’ arrangements,” Dean rolled his eyes.

“Jeez, can’t you take a joke?” Max rolled her eyes as well. She shook her head, “One of you can have the bed, and the other can take the couch.” 

“Then what about you?” Sam asked.

“Downstairs with whoever gets the sofa,” Max shrugged. “And pull your mind out of the gutter, Dean.”

“I didn’t say a word!” Dean snapped.

“You really didn’t need to,” Sam shook his head, not fighting the smile on his face.

“You guys decide,” Max said, heading upstairs, “I’ll go get blankets for the sofa-king.”

Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out a quarter, “Call it in the air.”

“Heads,” Dean said, as Sam caught it and slapped it down on his wrist.

“Tails,” Sam shook his head.

“All hail the sofa king,” Max called from the floor above, and did a mock bow.

“All right,” Dean scowled, “Laugh it up.”

“Heads up!” Max then announced and dropped the blankets and pillows she’d retrieved on Dean’s head.

The pillows bounced off him, and the blankets covered him like a hooded cloak. He just stood stock-still, an annoyed look on his now-shadowy face.

“Oh, I intend to,” Sam said, already laughing. “All hail the sofa king.”

Dean tried to show him the finger, but the blankets blocked his hand. He yanked the blankets off, and grabbed a pillow, smacking it into Sam’s laughing face.

“Play nice boys,” Max said, stepping off the staircase. She grabbed one of the blankets and yanked her pillow from Dean’s hand, then headed for the blue recliner in the corner of her living room.

“Good night Max,” Sam said, heading for the stairs, “And good night your highness.”

Dean rolled his eyes, and grabbed the blanket and pillow, heading for the sofa. _Oh, this is gonna be a reeeeeaaally fun job,_ he thought.


	3. Chapter 3

_ “Come on,” Dean said, heading down the hall of the asylum, “We gotta find Ellicott’s bones and torch ‘em.”_

_“How? The police never found his body,” Sam asked. _

_“His logbook said he had some sort of hidden procedure room down here somewhere where he’d work on his patients. So, if I was a patient, I’d drag his ass down here and do a little work on him myself.”_

_“I don’t know, it sounds kinda—”_

_“Crazy?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“Yeah,” Dean agreed, and then walked into another room. _

_Sam followed him inside and pointed out, “I told you, I looked everywhere, I didn’t find a hidden room.”_

_“Well, that’s why they call it hidden,” Dean smirked. _

_A stray breeze created a whistling sound. _

_“Hear that?” Dean asked, kneeling on the ground._

_“What?” _

_“There’s a door here,” Dean explained. He’d held his hand out and could feel a small breeze coming in through a gap near the floor. _

_“Dean,” Sam said, almost in a hiss._

_Dean turned and found himself looking down the barrel of Sam’s shot gun. He slowly got to his feet, “Sam, put the gun down.”_

_“Is that an order?” Sam asked, irritation in his voice._

_“Ah, it’s more of a friendly request.”_

_“Cause I’m getting pretty tired of takin’ your orders,” Sam snapped. _

_“Ah-ha,” Dean said quietly, “I knew it…Ellicott did something to you, didn’t he?”_

_“For once in your life, just shut your mouth—”_

_“What’re you gonna do Sam? Gun’s filled with rock salt, it’s not gonna kill me—” His voice was cut off by the gunshot, and the wooden door shattered as he was blasted through it. _

_“No,” Sam said, as blood dripped from his nose, “But it’ll hurt like hell.”_

Dean’s body jerked and rolled off the sofa. He narrowly avoided hitting the coffee table, and he stood up on his knees. He glanced around, worry setting in at the sight of the unfamiliar room, and wondering where Sam was. “Sammy?”

“Your brother’s upstairs,” A voice said quietly.

Dean shook his head, and saw Max across the room, sitting at the bar in her kitchen, looking at him through small, oval-shaped, glasses. “Thanks for the update.”

Max shrugged and went back to her book.

Dean frowned and glanced over at the large recliner next to the sofa. It had a blanket and pillow bundled up where she _had_ been laying in it before, “Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?”

“I should be,” Max agreed, “But I couldn’t. Therefore, I’m here, researching.”

“Researching what?” Dean asked, getting to his feet. “From how you were explaining things earlier, I figured that you were an expert.”

“Of all the things I know…it feels like the Thrall is the least of it,” Max sighed. She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “Couple more days, and the queen bitch is toast…”

“Then what?”

“Then all her army is dead,” Max frowned. “All the hosts die…which kills a lot of people…” Sighed again, “I’m sorry, but I’m a selfish person, I may not have the best life, but I sure as hell don’t wanna be a stinkin’ Host for the queen mother to lay her eggs in…”

“I thought they wanted that…Dusty, girl,” Dean frowned as he stood on the other side of the counter from her.

“We’re both choices,” Max sighed. “Like I said, they really go in for the psychics…it’s a hive mind…they all talk at once…gives you a nasty headache after a while…”

Dean glanced at the ceiling, where his brother slept one floor above.

“I don’t think they’ll go after him,” Max assured him. “I think Monica would rather see me with her hatchling, rather than your brother.”

“They choose guys to be queens?” Dean said in disbelief.

Max nodded, “I killed the one that sired Monica…he was this hairy guy, with a pot belly, disgusting pig…” She shivered, “He was gonna sire me too, and have us fight. He figured I’d win, I was stronger…” She gripped her black jacket and tightened it around her shoulders.

“You okay?” Dean asked gently.

Max squirmed, “No…not really…I just…really want this to be over…_and_ I want to live to see the end…not be the cause of it.”

“Well, that’s why me and Sam are here,” Dean said cockily, “We’re here to help. And protect.”

“Yeah, but have you encountered psychic vampire parasites before?” Max asked, putting her glasses back on.

“Well…no,” Dean sighed. “Actually not.”

“Then you should know, you can’t go into her lair, guns a blazin’,” Max gave a small smile, “Sends a bad message.”

“Any other rules for around here?” Dean asked, finally grabbing a barstool and sitting across from her.

“The werewolves,” Max said, folding her arms. “You don’t touch them.”

“Why not?”

“Because around here, werewolves are civilized,” Max explained. “They’re different, not dangerous…although they’re not allowed to drive cars, they might transform. But they don’t go after innocents. So, leave them alone.”

“Anything else?”

“Justin Brooks, downstairs,” Max said, “He’s a werewolf. You and your brother be nice.”

“Why aren’t you telling all this to him too?” Dean asked defensively.

“Because I can tell you’re the one that’s gonna have the problems here,” Max said. “I’m just laying down the ground rules. Subject to change or be added on to. I’ll get the rules to him, but if I can’t, that’s your job, get it?”

“Got it.”

“Good,” Max smiled warmly for a second. Then she grabbed a book, and dropped it in front of him, “Make yourself useful.”

Dean waved away the cloud of dust, “And what am I supposed to be looking for?”

“I heard something about alcohol,” Max said, waving her hand around as she skimmed the page. “It destroys the eggs or something…I’m trying to find a way, _any_ way to do it.”

“And what happens if you can’t?”

“Then you and your brother have to make sure both of us are safe,” Max said, not looking at him. “I’m protecting Dusty, then you do your jobs, babysitting me.”

“And…I’m sorry, but I’m still trying to get to the worst-case scenario here,” Dean frowned at her as he folded his arms across his chest. “I wanna know what we’re gonna be up against, should a new Queen rise.”

“Same old story,” Max said. “But you and your brother can be on your way, as long as it’s not me that’s the queen.”

“You really didn’t answer my question.”

“Then ask me point blank, don’t ask a side-stepping question,” Max snapped.

“I did, and you still side-stepped the question!”

“Fine, you want to know?” Max snapped, her head snapping up to look him in the eye, “I get turned, get the hell out of Dodge. And take my family and friends with you! That’s what the worst-case scenario is! With me as the Hive leader, my family is gonna die. _At my hands!_ Then you’re probably gonna be next, or first, whatever order Queen Rosemary-Maxine decides to do. Then my friends…you all will either be food, or Hosts.”

Dean mulled that over for a moment, “What makes you so sure?”

Max chewed on her lip, then said, “It’s kind of like a demonic possession. A queen is basically a host, but with a more powerful parasite.” She sighed, “Plus…it makes sense. The target falls, but their allies haven’t. There’s always someone out there that would want revenge, or have the enemy stopped at any cost.”

Dean gave a hum of agreement. He didn’t like it, but he understood. “Also…one more thing.”

“What?”

“_Rosemary-Maxine_?”

Max’s face turned a bright red color, blending right in with her strawberry-blonde hair. She cleared her throat, “Um…that’s my first name…Rosemary-Maxine Marianna O’Reilly. My brothers and I thought that Rosemary-Maxine was too long, and because I was the only girl out of four, they decided I needed a short…for lack of a better term, _boyish_ nickname.”

“So, they settled on _‘Max’_.”

“Well, it _is_ quicker than saying _‘Mary’_, and they really didn’t want to tag along and have to call me _‘Rose’_ all the time. Not masculine enough I guess,” Max shrugged. “Oh well, I like my nickname, and that’s why I tell people my name’s _‘Max’_.”

“Besides, I don’t think people would respect you the way they do if they called you _‘Rose’_,” Dean admitted.

Max looked up from the book she’d gone back to, and her eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hair. “Wanna run that by me one more time?”

“I mean,” Dean tugged at the collar of his t-shirt, now it was his turn to blush. “I’m not saying people wouldn’t respect you…because they would, and they _should_…but they would expect you to be…different, probably not a demon hunter type.”

“Demon hunter type?”

“Yeah…you know, a street-smart, ass-kicking, respected, intimidating woman.” Dean wasn’t sure what made him say all of it, but he found he meant it. It was worth it to see Max blush again, though she focused more on her book to hide it. _At least I didn’t offend her,_ he thought with relief.

“We’re doing too much talkin’,” Max said, a small smile on her face again. “We need to be readin’.”

“Whatever you say,” Dean smirked. “Rosemary-Maxine.” 

“Shut up.”


	4. Chapter 4

Dean opened his eyes to find sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows that ran along the outer wall of Max’s apartment. _No nightmare this time…_He was still half-asleep when something rumbled on his chest. He shot up with a yell, and the black furry cat leapt off him with a hiss. “What the hell?”

“For Pete’s sake, it’s just a cat!” Max snapped, though she was clearly laughing at the spectacle.

The cat leapt up the steps, and went straight for Max. It turned and gave Dean a glare and yet another hiss, then curled up by Max’s feet.

“When did that cat get there?” Dean scowled, glaring at the cat, and getting to his feet.

“’Bout an hour ago,” Max shook her head, still chuckling. “I’ve never seen her do that before…guess she likes you.”

Dean smirked, “Chicks usually do.”

“And I thought you were smarter than that,” Max said to the cat, who squirmed, and Max sighed, “And that’s my foot, not a pillow.”

“I didn’t see that cat last night,” Dean frowned, getting up and walking over to the bar.

Max smirked, “Your shirt’s covered in cat fur.”

Dean scowled again and wiped at the fur. “Never did like cats.”

“Me neither…I’ve always been allergic to ‘em to be honest,” Max explained. “Strange about Zip though, she doesn’t trigger anything.” Max gave a sigh next, “Makes me miss my dog Stormie. Minus the shedding part…the Great Pyrenees sheds in huge clumps of fur! But if she were still around, I could at least chase this thing outta my apartment.” She nudged the cat with her free foot, but the cat didn’t move except to cast a bored glare in her direction.

“Why is it here?”

“Allison, the lady downstairs, she owns this ball of fur,” Max shook her head, “It likes me for some reason, so it follows me around when I’m home…I need to make it a rule, if you have a pet, keep it in your own apartment.”

Sam came through the door next, “Delivery…coffee and doughnuts.”

“SHH!” Max hissed, “They might hear you.”

“The dough—”

“My brothers,” Max said quietly. “It’s like a sixth sense or something…”

“I cannot believe that anybody could sense when doughnuts were in the vicinity,” Sam shook his head.

Two heads poked through the door; “Did we hear doughnuts?”

“They say seeing is believing, Sammy,” Dean shook his head.

“_Sam_.”

“Whatever.”

“Hey, he’s like you,” Noah said, nudging his brother with his elbow, “Eh Lucas?”

“Luke,” Luke snapped.

“See?” Noah asked, “Doughnuts?”

“Help yourself,” Max sighed. The boys ran over, and each grabbed a doughnut. “Oy! You ain’t trackin’ crumbs everywhere! Grab a paper towel, or a plate!”

The boys did so, and Noah grumbled something on the way out.

“What was that?” Max snapped.

Noah’s head shot toward her, “Nothin’.”

Max frowned and waved them both off. “Close the door on the way out.”

Noah shut the door quickly, and Max sighed. “Annoying little brat. He’s been doing that for years…”

“What?” Sam asked.

Max said in a mocking tone, “_‘Mom didn’t make me use a plate…’_” She sighed, “I am not our mother…I can’t be mom…” She sighed, “I really thought he’d outgrown that…” She shook her head and got to her feet. As she headed for the stairs, she disturbed the cat, which yowled and moved to another corner of the room.

“Dude…why do you have black fur on your shirt?” Sam asked.

“Shedding season,” Dean said, finally grabbing one of the coffees Sam brought. “Damn cat thought I was a pillow.”

Max came back downstairs, fully dressed, and grabbed her black leather biker jacket. “I’m goin’ out.”

“Is that safe?” Sam asked.

“Sam,” Max paused at the door, “You gotta remember something. No place is safe, and trust nobody but your family.”

As the door closed, Sam raised his eyebrows; “God made two of ‘em.”

“Two of what?” Dean asked, skimming through a notepad.

He glanced at Dean, “Nothing,” He shook his head, “Never mind.”

“Guess she never did find out that thing…” Dean muttered, reading through the pages.

“What thing?” Sam asked.

“She said alcohol kills the vampire eggs,” Dean said, still skimming through the notes.

“Wait, wait…_eggs_?” Sam cringed, “Vampires lay eggs?”

“Yeah, in the victim’s arm,” Dean frowned, “So…Max’s getting bitten…whether she likes it or not.”

“Monica’s gonna lay eggs in Max’s arm,” Sam frowned. He gave a slight shiver, “That’s just…_wrong_…”

“Eh, eggs in the arm, it ain’t so bad,” Dean shrugged.

“This from the man who freaks out if there’s a rat in the room,” Sam smirked.

Dean, who was sipping coffee, put the cup down, and smiled, “And congratulations, Psychic Wonder, you have the opportunity to be egg-layin’ royalty.”

Sam grimaced, “Why me and not you?”

“I believe I covered that topic with the term, _‘Psychic Wonder’_,” Dean shook his head, “You’re getting slow, College Boy.”

* * *

Max was in her almost-completely-finished lobby, when a voice called her name. “Zip’s in my apartment, Allison.”

“That’s good,” Allison sighed in relief. “I was afraid she’d run off again.” It was quiet for a moment, before Allison said, “So, Justin says you got two guys in your apartment.”

“Nice segue,” Max shook her head. She grabbed her cell phone, and flipped to her most recent picture, “Zip turned one into a pillow.”

“Oh, he’s cute!” Allison said in a sweet voice.

“You said the same thing when Boo Radley was revealed,” Max shook her head again, and clipped the phone back onto her belt.

“Huh,” She said thoughtfully, then blurted out, “So, you gonna date him?”

“Boo Radley is a little too reclusive for my personal tastes—”

“I meant the hunter you dip!”

“Can you say, jumping the gun?” Max rolled her eyes as she folded her arms, “I just met the man last night.”

“And…?” Allison asked, “Why is your face getting red?”

Max felt her face, and felt the heat radiating off her skin. “I repeat, I just met the man…” She trailed off, shaking her head in disbelief, “I’m trying to discuss the rules of dating with the real-life Blanche Devereaux…” She shook her head, “I gotta go, Ally. We _won’t_ be discussing this later.”

“And your face is getting darker than your hair,” Allison smirked.

“Gah!” Max groaned in defeat and marched out the doors. She was at the end of the street when Allison’s voice called out, “Hey! That Boo Radley thing was in the eleventh grade!”

“You still said it though,” Max called back. She turned the corner, and her phone rang, and answered, “Now what?”

_“You know,”_ Allison’s voice teased on the other end, _“He is really cute…maybe I’ll introduce myself and—”_

“Go near him and I’ll—” Max realized what she was saying and gripped her phone tightly. “Ally!” She shouted in frustration. “You get off this topic, or you’re evicted!”

_“I know you wouldn’t do that,”_ Allison’s smirk was visible in her mind’s eye. _“You’re too nice a person.”_

Max’s hand shook, her frustration reaching its limits. She took a deep breath, then counted to ten. “Ally, Dean and Sam are just guys…more like allies. I’ve just met them. Drop the subject, or I’ll drop you.”

_“Which one’s the hottie?”_

“GAH!” Max snapped, and clapped the phone shut. She now noticed that everyone who was out walking had stopped and started staring at her. “Oh right, like none of you have ever had a frustrating friend?” 

The scene unfroze, and people began moving again. Max shook her head, feeling her face go red. _What the hell is wrong with me? Why is this getting on my nerves…?_

She could hear Allison’s voice in her head, _“Because you like Dean.”_ The voice was drawn out and teasing, like Allison used to do when they were younger. That’s what happened when you had a friend like Allison, who’s been around as far back as you could remember.

“Shut up Ally,” Max grumbled, heading down the street. She could hear Allison snickering and teasing her for the next three blocks.

* * *

“You find anything?” Dean asked, looking up to rub at his eyes after staring at a dusty book for over an hour.

They’d set up their own shop in Max’s kitchen, Sam’s laptop plugged into the wall outlet and his own papers strewed over the counter.

Sam looked up at the sound of his brother’s voice, “Vampires are parasites, they settle at the base of the brainstem, live off human blood…” He clicked a key, “Creates a lot more wear and tear than the human body can usually handle, the Host dies, and the parasite gets a new victim.”

“Nothing about the eggs?”

“Nope,” Sam shook his head. “Though, I doubt that that kind of information would be put on a website, displayed to the public.”

“Yeah, guess so.”

“Did she say where she heard it from?”

“Nope.”

“What do you suggest?”

“You go talk to wolf man,” Dean said, rising to his feet. “I’ll go find Max.”

“That’s a good plan,” Sam smirked.

Dean frowned as Sam snickered, and said, “Hey, I figured you’d want to know about that new form of werewolf.”

Sam cocked an eyebrow but didn’t say a word.

“What?” Dean asked.

Both of Sam’s brows went up, “The fact she’s a good-lookin’ redhead means no never mind to you?”

“Dude, Jonathan called us to watch out for her, and that’s what I’m doing.”

Sam shook his head, and got to his feet, “All right then, sorry I mentioned it. I’ll go downstairs and talk to Justin, see if he knows anything else that we could use.”

“And I’ll go track down Max,” Dean nodded, both heading out the door.

The door, wide as it was, was not wide enough to let them both out at the same time. They got jammed in the frame, both repeatedly trying to get out at once. Dean stepped back, and Sam passed through.

Dean shook his head and headed down the stairs. The cat followed him and ran ahead.

One of the doors was open on the second-floor landing, and the cat scurried into the arms of the bleach-blonde woman standing in the doorway, “Dammit, Zip! Don’t run off like that anymore.”

“You’re the one that owns the cat?” Dean asked.

“Allison Smith,” The woman replied. She was about average height and bordered on the skinny side of the weight scale with tanned skin. Her brown eyes sparkled in amusement as she added, “I take it you were Zip’s pillow.”

“What?” 

“I guess you didn’t know Max has a picture of you in her phone,” Allison shook her head, “You’re fast asleep, and Zip here is curled up on your chest.”

“Lovely,” Dean rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t happen to know where Max is, do you?”

“Nope, sorry Hun,” Allison shook her head. “But, if you don’t mind, can I get your name?”

“Dean,” He replied, “And if you meet my brother, his name’s Sam.”

“I’ll remember that,” Allison nodded. “Charlie mentioned that one of Max’s clients had a job for her to do, she’s probably gone to meet him.”

“Client?”

“Max’s a bonded courier,” Allison nodded. “Goes from place to place, delivering goods, that kind of thing."

“I’m familiar with the concept,” Dean said, “Did he give you the name of said client?”

“Actually, no I didn’t,” Charlie said, coming down the stairs. “You’re looking for Max?”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded.

“Well, I’m pretty damn sure the client bit was just a front,” Charlie said. “More than likely she’s probably going to the mall on sixteenth street. We know all the vendors, so she’s probably lookin’ for information.”

“All right,” Dean said, “Mall on sixteenth…guess I’ll start there.”

“A word of warning though,” Charlie said, “If Max finds out you’re trailing her…you might want to guard yourself.”

“Right,” Dean frowned, and headed for the door.

“Oh, that’s a good law for my kingdom,” Charlie’s voice carried to the door, “If you spy on someone, you will lose your tools.”

“Damn…I’d hate to live where that was a law…”

“The one for treason is worse,” Charlie said.

Dean paused, “Do I even want to know?”

“Your back is filled with molten hot pokers,” Charlie said. “From your shoulders, to your belt. No drugs or alcohol to numb the pain either.”

“What the hell kinda kingdom you runnin’ there?” Allison asked, slightly sickened at the thought.

“Not a very nice one,” Charlie said. “There’s a contest going to see who can make the most brutal laws for their kingdom.”

Dean walked out the door, shaking his head as he went. “Wish I’d had classes like that back when I was in school…”

* * *

“Hey Pete,” Max smiled, walking up to the vendor.

Pete sold sunglasses, and, like most vendors on the street, always kept his ear to the ground, finding information on pretty much anything. Max was interested in both today.

“Max,” Pete nodded. “Not good timing…”

“Why?” Max asked, concerned.

“Didn’t you hear?” Pete asked.

“Monica wants me dead,” Max shrugged it off. “I can handle it.”

“No,” Pete shook his head. “That is far from it. Monica wants you_ alive._”

Max’s mouth turned into a grim frown, “That’s what I was afraid of. Who all knows she’s after me?”

“_Everyone_.”

Max swallowed roughly, _so not what I wanted to hear._ “That just made my day,” She sighed.

“You need to disappear,” Pete said, “Leave town till this whole thing blows over.”

“You know who the next targets are then?” Max asked. “The other three tied to the name O’Reilly. I can’t leave my brothers here while I go hide someplace.”

“Take them with you!”

“Pete, I run, I’ll be running forever,” Max told him. “The next queen will probably be after me like Monica was, to finish Monica’s task.”

“You don’t know that,” Pete said.

“And I’m not willing to take that risk,” Max said firmly. “I _can_ handle this.”

“May God be with you, Maxine,” Pete sighed, “You’re gonna need Him.”

“He’s kept me alive this long,” Max shrugged.

“Yeah, but he can’t fight Monica for you,” Pete said. “The queens lost control over her. Monica’s second choice girl up and disappeared. And the replacement the queens sent is dead, and they don’t know how she did it.”

“Great,” Max sighed, “Not only am I on the list as a potential, I’m number one on that list.”

“Watch your back, Maxie,” Pete told her, as she paid for her sunglasses, “And watch it like a son-of-a-bitch.”

“Thanks Pete,” Max nodded, and donned the sunglasses. _So maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea for Johnny to call the Winchesters…_

A hand rested on her arm, and Max whirled around, ready to defend herself. But it was Morris Goldstein, who took a half-step back at Max’s hostile reaction. “Ah, Ms. O’Reilly, I am so glad you’re back from Paris. You were on your way to see me, yes?”

“Well, actually…” Max began, but the man had already latched onto her arm and was leading her down the mall. He was the most unthreatening man she’d ever met, who was short and going bald, with hazel-eyes and thick glasses. At five-foot-nine Max had a good eight inches on the man and longer legs, but at the pace he was dragging her at, she was having trouble keeping up.

The man was talking a mile a minute, something about a tourist in Tel Aviv, who found some great stone, and would make, “a stunning pear cut.”

Max wasn’t really listening to him, she just wanted to get home. She felt too exposed after her discussion with Pete, it had unnerved her greatly. She’d known Monica wanted her as the queen, but it really hadn’t sunk in all the way that Monica wanted _her_ as the _queen_.

She was breathless by the time they’d reached the Diamond Exchange where Morris’s office was located. _And I wasn’t even talkin’ to him,_ Max thought, as she walked into the elevator first. And the man was still babbling as they headed to the eighth floor. _God please don’t let this take too long;_ Max moaned inside her mind. She really wanted to go home, but her conscience wouldn’t let her.

The elevator dinged and stopped moving. Max caught the comment about her jewelry.

“You’re wearing one of those chains with the silver heart,” Morris was shaking his head.

“Hey, they’re in style!” Max protested, as she followed him into the shop.

“Yes, but that’s all you wear,” Morris shook his head, “And you could have something so much better.”

“Hey,” Max growled. “This was the necklace my father gave me for my eighth-grade graduation.”

“Ah yes…no wonder,” Morris frowned. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”

_I’m sure you are,_ Max thought.

“It was a plane crash, wasn’t it?” Morris then asked. “Both of your parents were on the plane.”

Max kept her face neutral, but she knew something was off. “Yeah, it was.” _And how did he know? I know I never told him that._

“Very sad,” Morris said sympathetically, “To lose both your parents in one go. And you were what…fourteen when it happened?”

“Morris, how does this involve my doing my job?” Max asked. She’d never told Morris, or any of her clients, how old she’d been, or that her parents had been killed in a plane crash. _But Monica would know…_a nasty little voice in her head said. _She’s seen inside your mind…_

“I’m sorry,” Morris shook his head. “That was probably the last thing you wanted to talk about.”

“Well, after eleven years,” Max said, “No. I don’t like talking about it.”

“Sorry, how rude of me,” Morris frowned. He called out for his assistant or secretary, Max was never quite sure, Marta, who didn’t answer. He looked at the desk, then smiled, “Ah, I see. The ink has finished. She’s probably run off to the supply closet for more.”

Morris ushered Max into one of the plush chairs, and said, “Sit, sit. I will call the cutter and tell him you will arrive Wednesday. Marta will return shortly, you will wait, yes?”

Max checked her watch, and sighed, “I don’t have much time, I guess I can wait though.” _But I want to go home, can’t you take the hint?_

“Of course, of course, you are a busy woman! I know this. I’m glad you can spare an old man a few moments.”

_I guess not._ “I can stay for only a few moments though, because I really do have another appointment.” _With Dean and Sam, trying to keep my dignity, and ask for their help to watch my back…after saying how much I could handle this alone…_

Morris nodded, and scurried into the inner office.

Max sighed and took off her sunglasses. Never in her life had she wanted to go crawl under a rock and stay there as much as she did now. But she knew she didn’t live in Max World, she lived in the real world. Crawling under a rock somewhere had never been an option before, and sure as hell wouldn’t be one now.

She could hear Morris’s conversation, the man never spoke quietly, or slowly for that matter, and realized he was speaking in Hebrew.

Max had always liked languages, even she couldn’t explain it. When she was younger, she’d beg her mother to get her _Muzzy_, the videotape sets that taught kids languages like Spanish, French, and Italian. When she got her courier job, she’d learned a lot more, and since she had gone on trips to Israel, she’d learned Hebrew. She hadn’t meant to translate the conversation, but she did so anyway.

“*Hello. Yes, I’ll hold. *”

Max gave a mental shrug, and looked around the office, waiting patiently.

“*Yes, yes, she’s here. No, I didn’t see any. She’s wearing a jacket. *”

That got her attention. Then, doing the calculation in her head, Max realized it was almost eleven o’clock at night in Tel Aviv. _This can’t be good,_ she thought nervously.

“*I can probably stall her for another fifteen minutes, but you must hurry. I would think that between the four of us we can control her. *”

Max was on her feet at this time, debating whether to be gone when he came back. _No,_ she reasoned, _Because I don’t run away from my problems. Prey would run, and I’m _Not_ Prey._

When Morris came back, he was beaming as usual. “Good news, the shipment from Sierra Leone has arrived and the stones should be cut by Wednesday.”

Max tried to smile, but she knew it looked like a smirk. “*You’re very good, *” She answered in Hebrew. “*I would never have suspected. But you can tell your queen I am not part of the Herd to be collected.*” She watched as Morris began sweating, and answered coldly, and in English, “Monica, I will deal with you on my terms in my own time. Make no mistake that any of your children who try to control me will pay dearly for it.”

As she turned on her heel to leave, half-expecting Morris to stop her, she started listening to Green Day’s _American Idiot_ in her mind_._ It was loud, and the first one that popped up in there. She slammed down her mental shields to block out the Thrall and made her get away.

Morris appeared to be frozen in place. _Probably like what happened to Dylan,_ Max sighed, shaking her head. _They can’t fight off the parasite’s commands…don’t they realize that?_

The elevator dinged, and Max took no chances. She ducked down the stairwell and took the stairs two at a time. The elevator was out, the Thrall had probably already thought of that. An access door above her opened, and footsteps thundered closer to her.

“Gotta do the cliché,” She muttered, and grasped the handrail, threw her leg over the side, and slid down the last six floors. When she’d reached the bottom, she grimaced, moving her arms around, _note to self…when in trouble with Thrall, stay on ground floors only._ She ceased the thoughts right there, choosing then to think about an episode of _Punk’d. _She despised reality TV, but when she felt the Thrall’s minds searching for her, it was suddenly a godsend. Granted, half the time she wanted to kick Ashton Kutcher’s behind while watching that show, but it was worth it now. Those thoughts were worth it, not the beating of Ashton Kutcher.

She paused, listening for any sound from above. She couldn’t use her mental senses; it would’ve been like blowing an air horn into the empty halls. Cringing, she grasped the handrail one last time and slid down to the parking level. Her arms still hurt, but she’d still fight if she had to. _But I really don’t want to, _she moaned. Some risks were worth taking, this was not one of them.

She carefully opened the door, and stepped outside…or, at least into the parking garage. But it was cool and silent, and she didn’t need to keep the shields down in here. The concrete blocked her telepathy, so there was no buzzing, or no headache. _I’ve been dealing with it for years,_ she thought, _I wonder how Sam is doing…_

Her boots were the only things making noise. She didn’t care about being silent, Max just really wanted to get out and get home. She bent down to get under the barrier and caught a weird look from the guard at his post. _Who cares, I’m free!_ _Now to get home and get my knives…_

“_Psst! Max!_”

“What now?” Max whined and turned to face the speaker. Her stomach clenched even more so when she saw Dylan motioning her inside the souvenirs shop. _Dammit…_

Once inside, he took her by the arm, then led her to the back, then both knelt behind cheesy and over-priced T-shirts and other useless trinkets.

Dylan was no longer the sweating, weakened mass Clarissa had dragged out of Bernardo’s. He was stronger, more confident, intense.

“Dylan, what is—?”

“Shh,” Dylan hissed, “They’ll realize I’m gone; I don’t have much time. Here!”

He shoved two pictures at her, one showing a group of teens in front of a tricked-out car. The other with two teen girls, trying to look cool and Goth. Dylan pointed to a girl with Jell-O green hair, “That’s Dusty last year. The girl next to her is her friend, Voneen. Dusty once said it was cool how Voneen had her own place…it was somewhere over on East Colfax near Clarkson Street by the triple X theatre. If Dusty went anywhere, it was probably to Voneen’s.” 

“Makes sense,” Max nodded. She knew where the place was but was never tempted to go in there. It wasn’t her kind of place…especially not while she was trying to raise her brothers. _Never, come to think of it,_ she amended._ It was never my kind of place._

She felt something touch her hair, and she immediately went to strike. Dylan was faster and caught her wrist. She realized how he’d changed so fast, and she almost had tears in her eyes…_almost._ “Dylan…you know you’re one of the biggest idiots on earth, right?”

He gave a sad chuckle, “It’s not what you think, Maxie. Vickie isn’t like Monica. But I couldn’t fight Monica’s influence alone.”

“Don’t expect me to feel sorry for you,” Max said. “You walked into it willingly, and we both know it.”

Dylan stroked a finger down her face and pushed away a lone strand of hair. “I forgot how beautiful your hair is.”

Max rolled her eyes, and tugged on her arm, “Don’t change the subject, Dylan.”

“I wasn’t changing the subject,” Dylan gave a small smile. “I don’t want Monica to have Dusty, and I sure as hell don’t want her to have _you._ I want you alive, and happy and with me for the rest of my life. I’ve been checking around. Vickie treats her people right. One of her hosts is still healthy after twelve years.”

Max’s head was buzzing, but she couldn’t feel the Thrall parasite inside of him. But she didn’t want to even hear him. “With _you?_ That’s insane, what are you talking about?”

Dylan continued to stroke her face, “Exactly what I said. I was a fool, Maxie. I regretted my decision every waking moment for the past four years. I’ve never loved Clarissa like I’ve loved you. I hurt you, and I can’t tell you how sorry I am. But I want to make it up to you.” He suddenly looked lost, “I…I mean…oh _hell!_”

He was like liquid when he pressed his lips to hers. But Max didn’t do anything. She was stiff in his arms and had to force herself not to bite his tongue. _The last thing I want is blood in my mouth,_ she rolled her eyes. She broke away, “Dylan, stop.”

She was able to get him to release her, and she scooted away. “You’re married now. I’ve moved on. I don’t trust you anymore, I _can’t._ I’ll find Dusty but respect my wishes and go back to your wife and stay there.”

He met her eyes, and sighed, “No Maxie. I will go, but not back to Clarissa. I must leave until this whole thing blows over. Until Monica is gone.” The way he stood up made Max think of one of those puppets on strings. She was unnerved even more after seeing that small spectacle. “But I’ll be back, and I won’t let you get away a second time.”

Max stared after him, confused, unnerved, and with the urge to gargle with Listerine for the next three hours. She got to her feet and left the shop. She wondered whose side he was really on and wondered why she still cared about him at all. She didn’t want him back that much was clear. Max shivered, and walked down the mall, lowering her shields to find Morris and other Hosts. Of course, she couldn’t find them, but could hear an argument going on.

_I will have my revenge!_

_No! She is too strong! She is Not Prey!_

_Comforting,_ Max had a small smile on her face as she shook her head. _Not all the Thrall is behind Monica._

Suddenly, someone grabbed her shoulder from behind, and pulled her into the alley. Before she could scream, a hand was clapped over her mouth.


	5. Chapter 5

“It’s me, it’s me!” Dean hissed, as she struggled in his grasp.

At the sound of his voice Max stood still, and Dean let go. She whipped around to face him and demanded, “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Well, I…” Dean opened his mouth, then shut it. Something about the woman’s glare threw him off his game, and he couldn’t think of a way to answer her. _Smooth Winchester, _he thought bitterly_._

“You were following me?”

Dean finally nodded in response, _There ya go, back on point._

“Where the hell were you ten minutes ago when I had to outsmart two Thrall members?”

_Really O’Reilly? It’s not like you left a forwarding address, _Dean rolled his eyes and answered, “Asking the sunglasses guy if he’d seen you.”

“’Least you were on the right track,” Max sighed.

“Got a cigarette?” The sudden question made both hunters jump.

When they turned around, they found the speaker was a teenage girl, probably not any older than sixteen. She was about an inch shorter than Dean and was a little pudgy from her baby fat. Her hair was dyed purple and spiked so high it gave her a few more inches in height but made her skin look extremely pale underneath the dark makeup she wore.

With her were two other teens around the same age – a boy and another girl. In contrast to the speaker, the second girl was tiny with hair that was bleached almost white and shot through with thick black stripes. She wore thick black eyeliner that made her ice-blue eyes stand out.

The boy stood taller than Dean by an inch or so, had shaggy dark brown hair, dark eyes with oversized feet and hands. His body language that was anything but friendly. 

“Don’t smoke,” Max finally answered the purple-haired girl’s question.

The girl then looked expectantly at Dean, but he shook his head, “Me neither.”

“Bummer,” the purple haired girl frowned. “Got a few bucks?”

“Hungry?” Max asked.

She shrugged, “A little.”

“If you’re willing to answer a few questions,” Max asked, glancing at the three, “I’ll buy you a few burgers.”

The boy had been leaving against a wall but moved to stand straighter, moving almost like liquid.

Dean glanced at Max, who didn’t seem too perturbed about it, but the movement still set him on edge. Even _now_ Sam didn’t move that gracefully – he moved more like a bull in a china shop.

He watched as the boy’s nostrils flared as he sniffed, and Dean could tell he didn’t trust them. But a silent agreement passed through the trio, and the speaker said, “Sure, why not? I’m Ruby,” She nodded at the blonde, “That’s Jade,” then to the guy, “And that’s Jake. He’s a _wolf_.” 

The way her tone changed meant the two were supposed to be either terrified or impressed.

“You mean he’s a werewolf?” Dean asked.

“Is that gonna be a problem?” Jake asked defensively.

“No,” Dean said, shaking his head. “I just wanted to make sure. Max said the werewolves were civilized, not monsters.”

Ruby frowned, but Jake gave a nod of acknowledgement.

“By the way,” Max said, “I’m Max, that’s Dean.”

The three nodded and headed for the corner burger restaurant. Jake’s eyes were constantly moving, always alert. Dean’s eyes went to the two girls as they walked on ahead. He noticed something odd, and bumped Max in the shoulder. When she glared up at him, he gave a nod toward the two with his chin.

Max’s eyes went to the girls, then her brows rose – Ruby walked with a sexual strut, but Jade walked very carefully, almost as if she were in pain, borderline limping. 

As they entered the restaurant, Ruby headed for the counter while Jade headed for the restrooms. “Order for me,” she called.

“No problem,” Ruby nodded, then walked over to Max. She held out her hand, palm up.

Max rolled her eyes, and pulled out a twenty, handing it to her. Ruby snatched it without a word and got in the line. Max was about to follow her, but a hand on her arm held her in place. Jake tugged her to a corner, wanting a word with her.

As Dean followed, Jake gave a growl, “This is a _private_ conversation.”

“He’s with me,” Max told him. “You talk in front of him, or this conversation is over.”

Jake scowled, then turned back to Max, “I’ve heard of you, O’Reilly. I cannot _believe_ you’d work for that man.”

“Matt Quinn?” Max asked. “Cause I’m not. I’m working for Dusty’s uncle and him alone. He wanted me to find her and keep her safe.”

Jake shook his head. “You actually believe that?”

“It’s what I’m trying to do…regardless of any agendas in place,” Max snapped, before folding her arms. “But if you feel there’s something else I should know…?”

“Dusty found out things about her step-dad that she wasn’t supposed to know,” Jake explained. “She knew what he’d do if he found her, so she bolted. Quinn offered her up to the vampires then hired you. You’re just being used.”

“And…you guys think I’m actually giving her back to Quinn?” Max asked. “Because I never said that. I would never _do_ that. I said I would _find_ Dusty. Doesn’t mean I’m giving her back to her stepfather.”

“Yeah, but you find her, and you’ll be leading the Thrall right to her,” Jake cautioned. “And your ass is goin’ into a wringer if you give her to either her dad or the blood suckers.”

“I’m not giving her to either.”

“Yeah right, and that’s why your jacket and hair smells like two different Thrall hives.” Jake shook his head, “Don’t screw with me O’Reilly.”

“Look…I understand why you don’t want me to find her,” Max said. “Because personally, if I were in your position, I wouldn’t believe me either. But I just wanted to keep her safe. Her _uncle_ wanted me to keep her safe. That’s all I want. I’m not delivering her to anyone and I’m not making her go anywhere.”

“I won’t let you find her,” Jake warned. “And I’ll kill you or anyone else hurting her before they try and take her.”

Dean sighed, pinching at the bridge of his nose, _He’s not listening._

This was getting more complicated. Now not only did they have to help Max, they had to make sure she would be protected from both the vampires _and _the wolves in town.

Max seemed to be on the same thought process and looked back toward the restrooms. “A bit of advice,” she said quietly, “Dusty’s going to need protection from someone that won’t be bought and _can’t_ be bit.”

“We’ve taken care of that,” Jake said.

“Jake, take a good look at Jade, and tell me that again,” Max sighed, glancing in the girl’s general direction.

Dean looked in the direction of the girl at the same time Jake did, and his eyes widened when he saw a spot of blood soaking through the jeans of Jade’s upper left thigh.

The sight caused the wolf to let out a low menacing growl before he started swearing.

Jade turned to face them, and when her gaze met Max’s she smirked.

“There’s still telephones back there, right?” Max kept her face neutral, but her tone wavered a bit.

“Yeah…” Jake nodded.

Max cursed under her breath next, before turning to Dean, “The Herd can’t communicate telepathically, but they sure as hell know how to dial a number.”

“Crap…” Jake realized it too, and turned to Max, “You both need to make yourselves scarce.”

“Right…come on,” Dean grabbed hold of Max’s wrist and lead her toward the door. The hunter glanced backward just in time to see Jade’s smirk turn to panic as she saw Max head for the exit.

Once they were out the door, Max jerked free only to latch onto Dean’s hand instead. “No running, no tales to tell Monica,” She murmured, as they headed down the sidewalk.

“So, you think she’s—?”

“Shh!” Max hissed. Her breathing got quicker, and she took a breath as she closed her eyes. “There’s four hosts…two of them are from the stairwell…and they found some friends.”

“Aren’t you the popular one,” Dean commented.

“Thanks,” Max said nervously as she opened her eyes. “Come on,” She led him a few feet, turned a corner, and ducked into another alleyway.

“Plan?”

“Trying to find one,” Max answered, before yelling out, “Duck!”

Dean dodged, feeling air rush by as the first blow from the attacker missed.

Max backed into the guy, jamming an elbow into his diaphragm, a second to his chest as he bent double from impact, then a third blow to his face in a simple one-two, breaking off fangs in a snap of bone.

“Wow…” Dean murmured as she bounced away, ready for more. “You…nice moves.”

“Thanks, but we have to get outta here, _now,_” Max said.

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” Dean agreed, as they bolted down the alley. They shoved a delivery trucker out of the way, ducked into the nearby building, and slammed the heavy steel door closed, locking the bolt into place afterward.

“You might wanna think about getting the hell outta here,” Dean called to the trucker, as Max looked for something to barricade the door with.

“The one time I need something, and it’s a clothing store,” Max sighed.

“Whatever, let’s just keep moving.”

They took off through the front door, dodging the clothing racks, and screeching out onto the mall. Max was able to stop and avoid making contact with the people on the street. Dean, however, collided with a camera-carrying tourist. Max couldn’t help but laugh as the tourist untangled himself from Dean and sent a stream of curses at him. Max helped Dean to his feet, and the hunter muttered, “I said I was sorry…”

“Worry about it later,” Max shook her head.

They could hear the bodies colliding with the steel door and carried on. They weren’t running, just walking fast. The southbound shuttle bus had just pulled up in front of the burger joint. Max led Dean around it, heading for the northbound bus, already set to take off.

Max leapt into the crowd on the bus, with Dean following behind her. They muttered apologies to other passengers and were crammed together like sardines. The doors closed with a hiss, and the bus took off. Max’s back was pressed against Dean’s chest, and he felt her relax slightly as the bus began to move. Some passengers took their seats, and the crowd loosened slightly. Max breathed deeply to calm herself, then jumped when Dean wrapped his jacket around her shoulders.

“You’re bleeding,” He told her quietly – he didn’t want to add the back of her jacket was shredded, they’d cross that bridge later.

“But…I didn’t get…” Max frowned, thinking for a minute, “Mind-control…” she gazed at Dean with a fearful look in her eyes, when suddenly the bus lurched, and she fell into the lap of a dark-haired business-man.

He gave her a smile, “I don’t know how you can stand wearing leather in this heat…” He’d already taken off his suit jacket, loosened his tie, and rolled up his sleeves. “Why don’t you take off those jackets?”

Dean eyed him wearily, suddenly realizing, _Bastard’s trying to flirt with her…_

“I dress for the situation, not the weather,” Max said in a flat voice.

The man shut his mouth, giving her an odd look at the statement. But he no longer continued to try and flirt with her, which made Dean relax. _And why did I find that so irritating?_ He wondered, as he helped Max to her feet.

“This is why I hate the bus,” She grumbled.

“Yeah, well, this is why it’s good to have me around,” Dean murmured back.

“To fend off the creeps on the bus?”

“Among other things.”

The crowd tightened as the doors opened and more passengers got on. Max seemed to grow more uncomfortable as the ride went on, going so far as to tuck her hair inside Dean’s jacket and turn up the collar.

Trying to help and put her mind at ease, Dean put an arm around her, and moved her in front of him, so she was out of sight through the windows. He cupped his hand over her head, helping to block her hair from view as well.

“Aww,” an elderly woman’s voice said quietly. She looked to her friend; “Don’t they make a cute couple?”

Dean blinked, and whispered, “She talkin’ about us?”

Max nodded, “Yeah, but a couple of what?”

Dean smiled and shook his head, and had a small moment of realization, _She’s cute._

Max suddenly tensed and gave a gasp of pain as she scrunched her eyes shut. Tears were rolling down her cheeks as she looked out toward the vampires on the street.

Dean followed her gaze and saw that they were now on the ground and shaking, with froth coming out of their mouths.

Max turned and buried her face in his chest, tears soaking through his t-shirt as she clutched him tightly.

Dean couldn’t keep the grimace from his face, he didn’t like seeing people in pain when he couldn’t do anything to help. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her to his chest as Max continued to breathe through the pain she was in.


	6. Chapter 6

The two stepped off the bus and Max said, “We’ve got another six blocks for the cross-town bus.” Her voice sounded weaker, wearier. “I’m not walking all the way home. And I’m assuming you didn’t drive here.”

“No,” Dean admitted. As they walked, he noticed Max rubbing at her head, “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Max grimaced. “Monica’s punishing the Thrall for their failure…I’ve just got a headache.”

As pale and exhausted as she looked, Max seemed far away from fine, but Dean didn’t say a word. Max could take care of herself, that much was certain, but he hadn’t even seen the vampire hurt her; it looked like she’d taken it out way before it had done anything, and yet her back looked like something with claws had slashed it open.

They reached the apartment without incident, and Max had stopped rubbing at her head, although she did spend the rest of the trip up the stairs griping about the situation at hand.

“This is getting ridiculous,” She said, as she let herself and Dean into the apartment. “Can’t even walk down the street…four…_four!_”

“She knows you’re not goin’ down easily,” Dean pointed out, leaning against the bar.

“Monica’s furious…and you know who’s gonna get the full blast of it,” Max sighed. She draped Dean’s jacket over a barstool, then yanked hers off as well. She held it up, and Dean smirked at her through the gaps in the material. She sighed, then tossed it in the trash bin, hissing in pain from the scratches.

“Yeah…uh…” Dean stood up, eyes following a path on the floor, “We may wanna get those bandaged up…”

Max followed his gaze and saw she had been dripping blood all the way home, which seemed to get worse the farther the trail led. “Lovely,” she sighed. “Well…first thing’s first,” she frowned, “Where the hell did, I put that neck guard?” she ran up the stairs, and started opening drawers, yanking objects out, then moving to the next one.

Dean frowned as he followed her upstairs. He had reached her bedroom area just as Max started tearing through her underwear drawer, and a flying bra hit him square in the face. He pulled it off and examined it, and with a smirk stated, “Thirty-two B…nice size.”

Max finally stopped, and turned to him, “You’re not _helping_!” She yanked her bra from his hand and opened the chest at the foot of her bed. She pulled out a few odds and ends, finally grabbing her precious neck guard.

It was shaped like a torso and made of rock-hard fiberglass. Two separate pieces of the material had been joined on one side with a hinge, on the other side were two pieces that could clasp the item connected.

“Basically, it’s a fiberglass Kevlar vest?” Dean asked.

“Pretty much,” Max shrugged. “Knives can’t sink in, Thrall cronies can’t bite through it, it’s a beautiful thing.” She started pulling off her shirt, “Help me put it on…” She ended with a hiss because of the scratches.

“You want help with those first?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, probably should…nothing’s worse than fingernail scratches you can’t reach,” Max sighed, belly flopping onto her bed.

“Try getting blasted with rock salt,” Dean said, heading for her medicine cabinet.

“I have been,” Max admitted. “Not a fun experience…” She cried out in pain when he poured the peroxide on her back, “Dammit, what was that for?”

“I have to clean the scratches,” Dean snapped. “You’re lucky I don’t have to pour holy water on them.”

“If you did, I would seriously kick your ass,” Max grimaced, gripping the blanket tightly.

A few moments of silence passed, as the cuts were cleaned.

Dean grimaced, “What did that vamp do to you?”

“I don’t know,” Max grimaced, burying her face in her blanket. “I really don’t know.”

“How can you not know?” Dean asked, confused.

Max just shrugged her shoulders and held still while Dean finished up. He sat up, and asked, “Did I hit a nerve or something?”

Max sighed, and got up, testing her mobility. “No…you didn’t.”

“Then why the sudden change here?”

She didn’t answer as she pulled a tank top out of the pile on the floor. She pulled it over her head before picking up the neck guard. “Why do I even bother with this?” She asked, tossing the thing aside, which landed with a hollow _clunk._

“Max?” Dean asked.

“You know, this is all Dylan’s fault, when you get right down to it,” Max said, sitting back down on the bed.

Dean sat beside her, “Um, I don’t know the story, so if you could fill me in—”

“He was my fiancé,” Max explained. “Cheated on me with Clarissa.”

Dean frowned as he pictured the woman, “The tiny little bitch that tried to strangle you?”

“Yep, that was her.”

“Didn’t think Dylan was that great of a catch that he was worth killing over.”

“Despite the bravado I think that since she stole Dylan originally it might not be that far of a stretch in her paranoid brain for me to try and steal him back,” Max admitted. “Though after someone could go behind my back and sleep with my best friend, seems pretty dumb on her part to assume I’d even _want_ him back, considering it’s been four years since it happened.”

“Monica attacked four years ago,” Dean’s frown deepened. “He set you up?” 

“He was lured with sex,” Max shook her head. “Or possibly money. I was never quite sure, but Clarissa told me he was getting a _lot_ of money…anyway, that was when I went after the queen, who was the dude, and killed him. I was designated Not Prey after that.”

“So why is Monica going after you?”

“The other queens told me they lost control over her,” Max scowled. “I never trusted them anyway. Monica’s predecessor wanted me to be a queen, kind of like a battle to the death scenario.”

Dean noticed Max shudder at the memories but didn’t call her out on it.

“Ever since that day…she’s kinda been in the back of my mind, quite literally, ever since.” Her scowl turned into a full grimace, and she kneaded her head with her knuckles.

“She can hurt you psychically?” Dean asked.

“It’s not her this time,” Max shook her head. “It’s the Thrall. That buzzing…it’s like pressure building in my skull…and nothing can get rid of it.” She looked at Dean, “She chomped down on my leg when I went after her…marked me. But because I killed the queen, I was designated Not Prey, however, since they’re all psychically linked, I can hear them all buzzing around if I can’t put up my mental shields.” She wiped at her eyes, “Hey…does Sam still hear the buzzing?”

“Not sure,” Dean said. “If he does, he hasn’t mentioned it.”

Max got to her feet and grabbed a blue button-down shirt off the floor. She shoved her arms into it with a grimace as she felt the bandages pull. “She’ll be dead in a few days. Then this’ll be over.”

“If we all live through it,” Dean said.

“Ah, you will,” Max assured him.

“And you?”

“That’s up to the big man upstairs,” Max said. “I’d like to believe I’ll live through it, but who knows?”

“You’re not gonna start preachin’ the Bible or somethin’ are you?” Dean grimaced.

“Relax heathen,” Max smirked, “My parents were Christians. But I’m not caught up on the Bible…that’s why I drag my brothers to Johnny’s church occasionally. We get enough of it from him.”

“Max,” Luke called out, coming into the apartment. “Max? You home?”

“Yeah?” Max asked, buttoning her shirt. She and Dean headed down the stairs, and the hunter headed for the door.

“I’m gonna go find Sam,” He said. “Maybe ask around about Dusty.”

“I doubt you’ll find anything,” Max told him, heading for the sink. “Jake wouldn’t tell me anything. He’d probably clock you in the face if you tried.”

“So, I’ll come back with a few bruises,” Dean shrugged, closing the door behind him.

“So, what’s up?” Max asked, turning to face Luke, who had taken a seat at the counter.

“Why was he in your bedroom?” Luke asked.

Max raised her shirt, showing him the bandages on her back, “The Thrall doesn’t like to play fair. Dean helped me.”

Luke looked skeptical but knew his sister didn’t do anything else. “You like him,” He then realized. “Don’t you?”

Max turned on the water in the sink, turning the valve to the side so the water would get hot. “What makes you say that?”

“I dunno,” Luke shrugged. “It’s just a feeling.”

Max thought about it for a minute, “Maybe I do.”

“Then why don’t you tell him?”

“NO!” Max said quickly. Her face turned red from embarrassment, like she was twelve and her friends were teasing her about a recent crush. She took a breath and shook her head, as she went back to her dishes, “Look, it’s nothing…he’s _cute, _but that’s about it. Besides…he doesn’t see me that way, and you know, he’s leaving once this is over, so it wouldn’t work anyway.”

“You _really_ like him,” Luke smiled.

Max rolled her eyes as she put dish soap in the sink and filled it up. “What difference does that make?” 

“Maybe he really likes you too,” Luke pointed out.

“Yeah, me and half a million other girls across the continent,” Max smirked. “What would make me so different?”

Luke opened his mouth, then closed it with a frown. “Um…” he thought for a minute, “You can both hunt ghosts.”

“Nice try,” Max shook her head. “But that’s not enough.”

* * *

“So, what did you get on our resident werewolf?” Dean asked.

He’d met Sam on the landing outside of Justin’s apartment, and Sam was giving Dean the run-down of what he’d learned.

“Term is Lycanthrope,” the younger Winchester explained, “At least, that’s what _they_ are. He wasn’t sure about how alcohol would kill the eggs, but he said he’d ask around.” He shook his head, “And he gave me a message for you.”

“What?” Dean smirked, “Don’t kill ‘im? Don’t call him Wolf Man?”

“No,” Sam shook his head, “Stay away from Max.”

“Wha?” Dean asked, confused.

“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “Don’t go after Max.”

“What the heck did you say to him?” Dean asked defensively.

“Nothin’,” Sam held his arms up in defense. “That was like a last-minute thing, as I was leaving, he said to tell you to stay away from her.”

“Well, I’d like a talk with this guy myself,” Dean said. “The werewolves are hiding Dusty. I want to know more about this.”

“Fine,” Sam said. “He’ll probably say he can’t explain it.”

“Hey, Hardy boys,” Max called out, coming down the stairs with Luke in tow. “I got a call to run an errand. Either of you wanna play bodyguard?” 

“You’re asking—”

“Quiet Luke,” Max cut him off.

“I’ll go this time,” Sam offered.

Max nodded, “Fine.” She headed down the stairs toward the parking garage.

“You talk to Justin, I’ll keep an eye on Max,” Sam said to Dean.

“You watch your back,” Dean said.

“I always do,” Sam nodded.

“No, I mean more than usual,” Dean frowned. “Guys can use mind-control.”

“Really?” Luke asked, “That must be how Max got those scratches on her back.”

Sam raised his eyebrows at Dean, who said, “That’s the general theory.”

“I better get goin’,” Sam said, heading down the stairs.

Max stood against her truck, now wearing a long, black, leather duster.

“What’s with the leather?” Sam asked, getting into the passenger side.

Max climbed into the driver’s seat, shrugging as she hit the ignition. “It’s better than nothin’…I have this neck guard thing, but I decided not to bother with it.”

“Why not?” Sam asked.

“Dunno,” Max shook her head. She pulled out of the garage, and headed down the road, “I made it through today without getting bitten…took out a Thrall member, though not before he got the jump on me.”

“Dean kind of explained that.”

“Yeah,” Max muttered. “Well, it’s _not_ happening again.”

Ten minutes later, they stopped in front of a store called Tres Chic, and Max got out, asking Sam to guard the car.

“Do you want me to bark at passersby too?” Sam asked with a roll of his eyes.

“Go right ahead, Cujo,” Max said with a lopsided grin, then headed inside. Less than a minute later, she returned with an envelope, rolling her eyes. “I really don’t want to do this. I normally _don’t_ do this…” She grumbled, getting back into the truck.

She tossed the envelope onto the dashboard, and started the engine, pulling away from the curb.

When his curiosity got the better of him, Sam grabbed the envelope and looked through it. “Eviction orders?”

“Yeah,” Max nodded. “One of the owners, Ramon, divorced his wife, after she cheated on him with their new prodigy. After he was awarded the house, Celeste went back and changed all the locks, and won’t let anyone get near enough to boot her out the front door.”

“So, he called you?”

“I’m a bonded courier,” Max shook her head. She grimaced as she added, “Plus…they’ve been my clients for a while, and they provide me a _lot_ of business. Usually I do _not_ do this kind of delivery, but he said he’d pay anything.”

“Ten thousand dollars?” Sam asked suddenly as he found the check.

“Yeah…it was the first number that came to mind,” Max admitted with a blush on her cheeks, “I thought it was high enough to where he’d change his mind. He agreed, and now I’m stuck in the middle, delivering the eviction notice.”

“Damn…”

“Bright side, bills can be paid, and Charlie doesn’t need as many scholarships,” Max sighed, “I’m not proud of it…but I’m a woman of my word.” She pulled the truck to a stop across the street from their destination. “Celeste may like me, but if she dents the _Falcon_, she’s getting one hell of a bill.”

“The _Falcon_?” Sam chuckled, raising his eyebrows. “As in, the _Millennium Falcon?_”

“Stupid, I know,” Max smiled along with him, and shook her head again. “But Luke called it that. I’ve had this thing since I was sixteen, and Luke would watch _Star Wars_ with me. He’s been calling it our _Millennium Falcon_ since he could talk…it kinda stuck.”

“And the name ‘Luke’…?”

“Technically his name is _Lucas_,” Max admitted, “But yeah, it’s why we begged our parents to name him Luke.”

Sam followed Max to the neighbor’s yard, and stood behind her as she called out, “Hi Celeste!”

The woman in the yard reached behind the hedge she had been trimming, and pulled out a heavy, lead crystal elephant.

Both took a step back, “I never did mention she’s taken to chucking fake elephants at people, did I?”

“No, you neglected that little detail,” Sam frowned.

“Oh! Maxine, how wonderful to see you darling!” Celeste said, dropping the elephant to the ground. It hit the grass with a soft thud. She looked at Sam, “And who is your friend?”

“His name is Sam,” Max said, taking a step forward.

Celeste’s face changed, and she frowned. She cast a panicked glance at the house, and apparently decided she’d never make it.

“You know why we’re here?” Max asked, but it was more of a statement than a question.

“Max, please understand,” Celeste began. “I found this house…I love it. I suffered a moment of weakness—”

“Celeste,” Max sighed, hearing Sam hiss then shift on his feet. _Weird…_“You’re talking to the wrong person. That’s why Dylan and I did not work out, he decided sleeping with my best friend would be better.”

“Um…Max…”

“Please, Max,” Celeste began again. “It’s not fair, he’s punishing me forever for one moment of weakness.”

“Was it worth it?” Max asked as she felt Sam jab her in the shoulder. She waved him off, still focused on Celeste. She put the papers on the hedge, “Was it worth driving away—”

“Is your friend all right?” Celeste asked suddenly worried.

Max whirled around to find Sam clutching at his head, breathing heavily. “Sam, what is it?”

Sam grimaced, and raised a trembling hand to point at the balcony window, “Thrall…” He muttered.

That was when Max felt it, a surge of power from the Hive. She watched as Celeste’s knees buckled, and the woman fell to the ground with glazed-over eyes.

“Thrall!” Sam said, louder this time.

Max looked to the second-floor balcony. A young man stood there, and opened his mouth in a hiss, revealing fangs. “Sam…listen carefully. Imagine a shield. Once you have that, _focus_ on blocking them out. Like slamming down that shield.” All the while she had a hold on his arm, helping him back away to the truck. There was a knife in her hand, she had strapped sheaths to her wrists, hidden under her sleeves. She picked up the pace when the vampire leapt from the balcony, picked up Celeste, and hissed at them again.

Max shoved Sam into the passenger seat, then ran around the truck and climbed in herself. She started the engine, and glanced at Sam, “Any better?”

“Kinda,” Sam grimaced.

“Just try and close the mental shields,” Max said, starting back for the apartment. “It’s kinda hard at first, but it keeps them at bay.”

The closer they got to the apartment building, the Thrall’s effect on Sam seemed to get weaker, and he seemed to recover a little bit, although he was still cringing as he rubbed at his eyes, and in a quiet voice said, “I shouldn’t have volunteered.”

“You didn’t know,” Max said, pulling into the parking garage. She handed him a knife before killing the engine. “I didn’t even know.”

“How do you deal with the buzzing all the time?” Sam asked.

_Guess that answers that earlier question,_ Max frowned. “Like I said, the shields block them out. It takes practice I guess.” She looked at him, “You haven’t really mastered your abilities yet, have you?”

“I don’t really know what my abilities _are_,” Sam admitted. “I mean, I know I get visions. And apparently can hear the Thrall…once I moved an entire bookshelf with my mind, but I don’t know if that was a onetime thing, or it’s something that will improve later.”

“The only thing I can tell you is practice with the mental shields,” Max shrugged. “I know it sounds repetitive, but that’s all I can offer at this hour.”

Sam nodded, and got out of the truck. There weren’t any vampires that they could see, and they walked up the stairs towards Max’s apartment. It was uneventful, unless one counted Max spinning around at random intervals to make sure they weren’t being followed.

Dean and Luke were waiting in the apartment, Luke at the laptop, eyes wide with curiosity.

“Wow…you guys know everything about this stuff,” He said in awe.

“Not everything,” Dean said, looking over his shoulder, “But a lot.” He looked over at Sam, and straightened, “What the heck happened to you?”

“Nothing,” Sam said, shaking his head.

Max frowned, she could see Sam’s eyes were bloodshot, and he was very pale. “He’s never felt a power surge from the Thrall before.” She explained, “Anyone got a specific preference for music?”

“What’s the choices?” Dean asked.

“Anything that when cranked up will be very, very, loud,” Max said. She caught her reflection in the glass doors in front of her stereo and saw she too looked pale and bloodshot.

“Foreigner!” Luke called out, eyes never leaving the computer screen.

“What a surprise there,” Max rolled her eyes, and slid in the CD, cranking the volume up. The song _Hot Blooded_ filled the air, and Luke bobbed his head to the song. “Focus on the song, it’ll block out the Thrall.”

“That’s why the buzzing went away the first time,” Sam realized. “Dean started playing Metallica.”

“Luke answered with Foreigner…but Metallica does work,” Max nodded. “AC/DC, Green Day…anything that can be pumped up really loudly…” She rubbed her temples, “It blocks them out…I don’t want them to know what I think I know…”

“What you _think_ you know?” Dean asked.

“Or what I’m planning,” Max said, “I just don’t _know_ what I’m planning yet…”

“Well, what do you know?” Sam asked, “How ‘bout we start there?”

“Clarissa, Matt Quinn, who is Dusty’s stepfather, this nurse at the hospital, and a guy in a pick-up at the airport—”

“You really are the popular one, aren’t you?” Dean asked.

“They’re all working for Monica,” Max said, as if she hadn’t heard him. “Dylan is fighting them, and I’m not sure about the Thrall cronies at the mall. I’m not sure whom Morris is working for, nor do I know about Celeste…” She rubbed her temples once more, “I’ve gotta go out…this time _alone._”

“Works so well every other time,” Sam commented.

“That reminds me,” Max held out her hand, “Gimme my knife.”

Sam grabbed the hilt and said, “No.”

“_Please_ gimme my knife?” Max asked in a strained voice. She made a grab for it, but Sam held it above his head.

“No, you shouldn’t go out alone,” he said.

“I tried to be nice,” Max shrugged. She tackled him to the ground and yanked the knife out of his hand. Getting to her feet, she put the knife back in its sheath, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Sam scowled at her; despite the fact he was gasping for air. She’d knocked the wind out of him when she’d hit him, throwing her shoulder into it. Dean was gripping the bar to keep from falling off his stool, he was laughing so hard at the display. Luke applauded his sister as she left, and shook his head, “Yeah…she doesn’t like it when people do that.”

“Thanks…for the…warning,” Sam coughed, sitting up.

**Author's Note:**

> So I know the first chapter is very short, we'll get more in depth into the story in the next chapter. But what do you think? It's been a while since I've ventured into the "Supernatural" fandom. Any constructive criticism is always appreciated.


End file.
